Tales of Vampires and Jim Morrison
by Frisky Wallabee
Summary: AU. Skitcar. Simple ficlet to get back into the swing of things. May or may not be continued.


**Disclaimer:** Ohai! I'm not dead! Only "mostly dead." Newsies don't belong to me…yet. None of the references mentioned here belong to me either.

--

"They are so gay."

"They are not!"

"What straight men have a twenty foot poster of Jim Morrison in their house? Or cave or whatever."

"Maybe they just like The Doors."

"I like The Doors and _I_ don't have a billboard-sized poster of Jim Morrison in my house."

"Just shut up about the poster already!"

"…That blonde guy's hot."

"Now who's gay?"

"…I still don't have a giant picture of Jim Morrison."

Skittery gave an exasperated sigh and paused the movie. Michael was currently tipping the blood he believed to be wine into his mouth. He wouldn't have been so annoyed if _The Lost Boys_ hadn't been his favorite movie of all time. He had decided to invite Oscar over to show it to him and all he had been doing was ridiculing it vehemently.

Oscar. There was something different about him. He was never in class and more often than not, caught smoking under the bleachers or in the boys' bathroom. He wore ripped shirts of The Clash and hair-metal bands like Motley Crue or some children's television show like _Dora the Explorer_ and yet Skittery felt himself drawn to him. Maybe it was because he knew what it was like to be a freak. An eighteen-year-old gay boy actually _named_ Skittery.

So he had found Oscar sitting on the curb outside of school, smoking a Camel and squinting against the bright sun. Skittery was seized with the need to suddenly invite him over. Oscar had shrugged and said "yeah, sure."

So there they were: two boys on a worn, plaid couch, watching an 80s movie about vampires. A movie Oscar seemed to love to criticize.

"I'm just saying that it's really queer to have a twenty-foot poster of Jim Morrison in your house. A twenty-foot poster of _shirtless_ Jim Morrison."

"Just drop it, okay?"

Oscar shrugged under his motorcycle jacket. He crossed one, fingerless-gloved hand over the picture of Tommy Lee emblazoned across his shirt.

"Okay, fine. I promise no more mention of the totally gay poster of Jim Morrison, your queerness."

Skittery rolled his eyes at his "title" but couldn't help but smile at Oscar's semi-apology. He put the movie back on. Oscar dutifully remained silent. All ridiculing had ceased, not just questions of the vampires' respective sexual orientations. The only laughter to be had was the ones the movie encouraged.

"…All the damn vampires."

Skittery hit stop. He turned to Oscar who was slowly nodding his head.

"I like it. Totally iconic," he said in an appeasing voice. "But still…"

"Shut up about the poster!"

He grinned at him, giving him the appearance of the Big Bad Wolf. Skittery felt his insides clench. He felt a soft, fluttery sensation rippling in his body. Was he developing…feelings for him?

"So…why'd you invite me over?"

"I need volunteer hours to graduate and you seemed like a good cause."

He smirked, relinquishing praise for his comeback.

"I'm not entirely sure. I just…I dunno. You seem weird, like me. And we freaks need to stick together."

Oscar stretched on the couch, allowing his shirt to ride up and reveal a few inches of pale skin. Skittery found himself staring. The skin was so pale and white, it almost looked like porcelain. His body wasn't typically defined nor was he scrawny. There was a bulge of muscle under his navel and a small trail of inky black hair leading to the tops of his ripped jeans. Oscar noticed him staring and pulled his shirt down.

"Don't stare at my gut," he all but snarled. However, there was a smile pulling up on his lips.

Skittery held his hands up. "Fine, I won't. It's not my fault you're fat."

He tossed his head back in laughter, the light reflecting off of the silver hoop in his nose. Skittery paused. He hadn't noticed the piercing before. Oscar leaned back into the plaid couch and dug his feet into the pea-green, shag carpeting surrounding them. He patted his stomach.

"I'm such a fatass," he said, sounding almost earnest.

"Oh, yes."

He laughed. "No…I eat like one though. If my metabolism ever slows down, I'm fucked."

Skittery burst into laughter on that one. He couldn't believe they were having such a normal conversation so quickly.

"Hey…since you invited me over and all…meet me after school and we'll go watch a movie or some shit at my house."

That made him feel happier than he wanted to admit. Shrugging like it was no big deal, Skittery answered the affirmative.

--

"You are such a hypocrite."

"I am not."

"You are."

"It's not twenty feet tall."

Skittery shook his head and bit back laughter. Oscar had neglected to tell him about the wall-to-ceiling poster of Mick Jagger that he had on his wall. A wall-to-ceiling _naked_ poster of Mick Jagger.

"It was a promotional image for 'Sticky Fingers,'" Oscar insisted, holding up the sleeve to the album for proof.

The picture consisted of the famous lead singer with his back to the camera. He held a picture of pants pockets over his ass and turned his head so he was looking towards the camera. Skittery had to admit that back in the day, he would certainly tap that. But the fact that the purportedly straight Oscar had the poster (not to mention his comments yesterday concerning Jim Morrison) made him laugh.

Oscar placed the album back with his collection of vinyls. It amazed Skittery that he didn't have a single CD. Just a ridiculously large collection of albums he had apparently inherited from his father after the man got his own portable player.

"Actually, I wanted you to see that," he said easily, moving in next to him. He placed a hand on Skittery's shoulder.

The other boy felt his insides tingle.

"Why?" When had his voice gotten so shaky?

"So you'd understand more when I did this…"

He leaned forward and kissed the corner of Skittery's mouth. Surprised he turned to face him. Oscar was smirking.

The next thing he knew, they were rolling on the dirty, beige-carpeted floor of Oscar's room. Their lips met time after time and hands reached for clothes to tear off. The pressure of Oscar's lips on his made his heart thump hard in his chest. This was all happening too fast. He got up and sat with his back resting on Oscar's bed.

"Sorry but…" he scanned the room looking for an explanation. His eyes settled on the poster. "…but…Mick's staring at me. It's creepy."

"If you want to slow down…just say so."

"I do…but I like it."

Oscar grinned. "I try."

"I didn't know you were…"

"Card-carrying member since I was thirteen. No one bothers to talk to me so no one really knows." He shrugged but Skittery thought he sensed hurt in his voice.

"Ah…so…I'd like to do that again."

"So would I."

Skittery stroked his arm slightly, liking the feel of being close to him. He glanced at the poster.

"Somewhere else, though…I swear, he's staring at me."

Oscar smiled. "Fine by me. And, hey, Skits…we should watch that movie again too. Maybe I'll invest in a gigantic picture of Jim Morrison."

"Shut up about that poster!"


End file.
